Welcome
by Michelle H. C. Zhu
Summary: Sam meets Monsoon for the first time after joining Desperado. Dark humor, no pairings.


_**A/N:** You know that first-person POV I tend to write in signifying I am a lazy little douche? Yeah, that.  
_

* * *

"…Don't worry, I'm not expecting an apology," is what Sam says the first time he bumps into Monsoon after being 'recruited' by Armstrong.

Hey kids, here's a game for you—can you spot the difference between Sam-then and Sam-now? Nope, he didn't cut his hair. Hint hint, it might be that cybernetic arm jutting out noticeably from the rest of his body. Yet, Sam is neither ashamed of nor does he show off his new arm. He just has it causally leaning on the rail as he regards Monsoon with a nonchalant look.

The magnetic man vaguely reminds Sam of a butler in regards to his stature and poise. Monsoon has his hands clasped behind his back and is drawn up to full-height, measuring up to a good 6 foot 3 inches or something. Sam actually has to incline his head a little bit just to be able to address Monsoon's face.

"Jetstream Sam. Glad to see all the fight hasn't been beaten out of you." Monsoon cracks into a downright unsettling grin, displaying a perfect set of pearly-whites at Sam. "Welcome aboard."

Sam replies to that backhanded remark by spreading his arms out in a Jesus-esque pose.

"Well, here I am." Sam swings his gaze around from left to right before directing back to Monsoon. "Anything the new guy should be let in on?"

Monsoon eventually comes to learn what he has just witnessed is Sam's signature pose. It has a wide range of uses and can mean anything from _"come at me, bro_" to "_what the hell is this?_" to _"oh snap what now"_. It takes Monsoon well over half a year, but in the end, the Cambodian learns to read all of Sam's body gestures.

"Has someone given you a tour of the building?"

In which Sam glances away and sheepishly scratches his chin. "I am afraid not. I wasn't able to get penciled in for Armstrong's four-o'-clock, so…"

Monsoon chuckles a bit before turning away and walking towards the stairwell, beckoning Sam to follow with a jerk of his chin.

"Come. I'll show you around."

True to his word, Monsoon gives Sam a tour of the headquarters, pointing out the various rooms and locales—here is where you will be briefed on your missions, corridor leads to an annex where the billets are located, that there is where you will receive checkups and repairs, the kitchen, the lounge, weight room, gym, VR training, morgue, et al.

Sam keeps vague tabs of everything his Cambodian tour guide informed him of but doesn't force his brain to work too hard memorizing all the places he's never going to step foot into. Rather, Sam has florescent sticky notes stuck onto the areas that are related to his interests—here is the coffee machine, over there is my room, is there a place where I can spar, oh and also I hope your facilities are equipped with the appropriate tools to clean a sword because I will lop off the hands of the poor fool that dares spray WD-40 on my precious blade.

"As you'll come to learn soon enough, a cybernetic limb is something that requires frequent maintenance," Monsoon says once he's done addressing Sam's Murasama-related worries.

Sam looks Monsoon up and down as if he just realizes for the first time that the Cambodian is a magnetic steak cyborg. "What I'll have to endure is probably a cake walk compared to what you have to go through on a daily basis."

"True. After all, you are one of the few soldiers we have with less than 25% of their body modified."

"Well, I am exceptional, am I not?" Sam's over-the-top swagger leaves as quickly as it comes. "Assuming that was a compliment."

"Take it as you like," Monsoon replies conversationally. "I was merely inferring that there's always room for more improvements if you're interested."

Sam chuckles and Monsoon can spy the bitterness sieving into the Brazilian's voice. "The cost of one arm already left me in a lifetime's worth of debt," Sam says with a smile (except the smile is morbid and the humor is black like coffee), "I don't think there's any way to pay for another limb."

"You'd be surprised. A good number of our employees invest their earnings towards cybernetic upgrades." Monsoon slowly brings his hands to his chin, looking like an old man in contemplation as he strokes his nonexistent beard. "I recall one of our former high-level recruits used all his income to undergo a near full cyborg body conversion."

Monsoon doesn't see Sam quirking a brow at the word '_former_'.

"His choice of body closely resembled that of a mobile suit," Monsoon continues, "Ultimately ended up trading his lower body for wires to connect to his mech."

"… The man had no feet?" Sam asks, unimpressed.

"The allure of power was far greater than keeping his human body." Monsoon leaves the realm of contemplation and rounds back to Sam. "Have you ever considered going down that road?"

"No… no, I have not. You see, I am rather fond of my legs," Sam says, giving his thunder thighs a pat for emphasis.

"It's your choice." Monsoon shrugs nonchalantly. "Let's see how long you last in a battle with that flesh-and-blood body of yours."

Sam's gaze sharpens tremendously at the challenge, although there's nothing outwardly antagonistic about his temperament. He reins himself in, keeping his emotions in check and only allowing the tiniest bit of displeasure surface on his face just to show that no – no, he was not cool with that comment. From this day forward, Monsoon is his superior and Sam has always been exceptionally good at knowing when to be a cocky smartass and when to practice temperance.

_Hoh_, Monsoon thinks to himself, _he is a welcome change to Khasmin_.

All Sam does is lean in slightly and lower his voice a few decibels, uttering the words as if divulging a secret to Monsoon—

"I assure you that my_ 'flesh-and-blood'_ body won't be a handicap in way of getting the job done."

Monsoon breaks into another Cheshire cat grin that eats up half his face, unnerving and with just the slightest hint of sinister hostility.

"We'll see, Sam. We'll see."

_Welcome to Desperado, Sam._


End file.
